Friends
by SilverInkblot
Summary: He's got friends on the other side; they used to be on this side.


New Orleans was a dual city to say the least. Everything about it was too bright in the daytime, too vibrant, blindingly so. The people cast deep shadows behind them, following their footsteps through the market vendors and cafes until night fell and it was their turn to follow the shadows into the speakeasy's and brothels away from respectable society. When morning broke the shadows fled, leaving only headaches and hangovers in their wake.

Some shadows though, were never reached by the daylight.

He watched life through a shuffle of people. Everyone wanted something. Everyone was a potential customer. All he had to do was be patient.

They would always seek him out.

Working in this biz you saw the worst in people. They would give everything for bits of string and tea dregs if they believed it would make them happy.

It was all he could do not to laugh as he read their fortunes.

Facilier slipped between the alleyways, dodging stray cats that weren't afraid of his shadow. No one was outside tonight, not on All Saint's Eve. The shadows were restless tonight, pushing the boundary between the physical and the intangible to its breaking point. Facilier was headed deep into their territory.

A little reunion was in order.

He always had a flair for the dramatic and was pleased to see the fog rolling inside the cast iron gates of the cemetery. Nothing like a little atmosphere – the smoky tendrils wound around the graves like a cat, brushing up against the stone with a whisper. The fog slipped away as he approached, revealing the name carved into the rock: Vincent James.

* * *

Vincent James had a long nose and teeth that were slightly too large for his face, producing a disconcerting rat-like appearance. This was offset by his English roots, his air of propriety, his London accent. The narrow alleyways and hidden crevices of New Orleans reminded him of home, though he could have done without the jazzy atmosphere. London was dark and gritty where New Orleans was dazzling and bright. But he could read the tea leaves in the bottom of his cup and they were telling him the city was much darker than its Mardi Gras mask, so he had stayed. Under the bright feathers and clink of beads he discovered for himself the underworld of the New World, sensual and throbbing, the base chord that accompanied everyday life.

"_Having a bit of trouble racking in business Vince? I hear the shadows are getting impatient with you." Facilier shuffled his cards as he spoke, the deck making a sharp 'snap' each time it came to rest._

"_Just a lapse in customers. I may have emptied New Orleans of its entire tea-drinking population. Save myself of course." Vincent sipped his tea delicately through his too large teeth._

"_Time to find a new venue then? Maybe open your own teashop. Have a little 'special' brew, know what I'm sayin'? It don't look like Prohibition will be letting up any time soon."_

_The fireplace roared suddenly as a log snapped in two and the flames jumped and crackled as though in laughter. Strangely, the shadows remained stationary. Vincent steadied his teacup._

"_That's not what I read in the leaves. The movement will blow over soon."_

"_Mmm. Until then, how's a toast?" He raised his glass, half full of golden liquid._

_Vincent raised his own teacup. "To good business?"_

"_To good business."_

* * *

Facilier removed his hat in reverence. He remembered Vincent well – a businessman to the end, proper and upstanding even as the shadows drug him away into the Netherworld.

Not a soul in this city drank tea anymore.

The next marker was deeper in, partially obscured by weeds. Facilier reached into his jacket, coming back with a seashell. "Hello Vanessa…" he stopped suddenly, noticing the bowl of shrimp next to the grave for the first time. So she had been here already.

* * *

Vanessa was the name she gave, though Facilier never believed it to be her real one. She had been extraordinarily beautiful with ling wavy hair always streaming behind her like the figurehead of a ship plowing headfirst into dark waters. She wore her beauty like a mask and took her trade to the sea ports and docks where the men were known in equal proportion for being superstitious and lustful. They came to her for thassala shell trinkets for luck on a voyage and talismans for calm seas, among other favors not suitable for polite company. She read the tides and saw the future in shallow tide pools, scryed hidden messages in fountains and rainfalls. She combed the beach for driftwood and seashells, collecting their stories in a wicker basket for later use.

_She was barefoot in the sand letting the waves wash over her feet, sandals cast aside. In her hand, her basket was overflowing with seashells. The waves crashed and the sand muffled his footsteps but Vanessa was sharp of hearing._

"_Dr. Facilier."_

"_Vanessa."_

"_Come looking for a sailor to steal?"_

"_My dear, surely you know I would never be so bold as to intrude on your territory?"_

_The waves hissed as they met the land, fluidity crashing with solidity over and over and over._

"_Mmm. Then perhaps you've come to treat me to dinner?"_

_Facilier laughed, sweeping off his top hat with a bow and a flourish._

"_Shrimp then? Say, around 7:00?"_

"_Why Doctor, I never knew you were such a gentleman," and Vanessa took his outstretched arm._

_Behind them, the waves slowly erased their footprints._

* * *

She had always had a weakness for shrimp. Loved the stuff; raw, cooked, in the gumbo. He laid the shell on the grave.

He really should have brought shrimp.

* * *

Claudius looked like a predatory cat, all smooth graceful movements, slinking from one shadow to the next, carefully picking and choosing each customer. His trade came from his ancestors, passed through generations in secret through hardship and the Civil War. His days as a sailor had taken him to Africa where he had taken the opportunity to truly hone his craft in its homeland. Over one eye was the scar left from a vicious ritual battle with a lion; he carried the bones of the very paw that marred him in a leather pouch. Now he threw those bones to read the future. The clink of bone on bone followed his otherwise silent footsteps.

"_Any rain in them bones Claudius? This city's so dry not even the Prohibitionists could find any wrong doin;."_

_Claudius glanced up over his shoulder where Facilier was hovering, eyes on the bones scattered about the street corner._

"_Not a drop. But they do say you've come to invite me for a drink."_

"_Them bones don't lie my friend," and he extended a hand to help him up, but Claudius was busy putting away the bones. "Come on Ed."_

_Ed shuffled out of the shadows, tongue dangling and one leg dragging instead of stepping while the other didn't bend quite right at the knee. Facilier leaned slightly to study the creature. "This one doesn't seem to have come out right."_

_Ed's left arm fell off._

"_He was created too hastily." Claudius sighed and picked up the arm. "I needed another zombie in a hurry after the last one re-died."_

_Whuhahahahahahaha. AHahahahahahaha…."_

"_Is. . . is he laughing?"_

"_Yes. I can't get him to stop."_

"_Well, we the living probably are hilarious to the dead eh?"_

_The pouch around Claudius' neck came loose suddenly, sending the bones back to the ground. Claudius bent hastily to gather them and stopped, frozen on his haunches._

"_What do they say?"_

_He snatched the bones back up._

"_Nothing. They don't say anything. Now how bout that drink?"_

_Facilier frowned but didn't press the matter and the two headed for the Emporium. Behind them, Ed shuffled along, shrill giggles echoing in the alley long after they were gone._

* * *

Facilier leaned heavily on his cane. No one was ever quite sure how Claudius met his grisly end. Some said his zombies had turned on him, which wouldn't have been such a surprise. There were nights when he could still hear Ed's giggling bouncing through the city.

The next grave was under a cypress tree, which was rather fitting for the body under its branches. Facilier steered clear of it, but that didn't stop the memories.

Jean Primeir had a frame made of all bone, joints pointed at unnatural angles and a sharply defined face with deeply sunken eyes. He joined the priesthood at a young age in his home of Paris and spent long years stifled in monasteries before deciding on a career in law. Dealings with the shadows had helped him rise quickly through the ranks and in a few short years he found himself as the youngest judge in French history.

As a young man, the passions he had tried to repress flared unpredictably; a dropped handkerchief and a single night left him saddled with an abomination before God after the mother left the infant on his doorstep and vanished.

It would have been simple enough – tiny bodies were easy to hide.

But somehow, and he never found out how, his secret was unearthed. He fled Paris in disgrace as fast as he could as though Samedi himself were on his heels. Which he very well may have been. His judicial prospects ruined forever, he found himself in New Orleans and struck a new deal with the shadows for the power he couldn't obtain on his own.

Facilier had never associated much with Jean, though he did offer polite greetings when they passed on the street. It never did to insult a fellow practitioner, but even among the lowest there were standards. Sacrificing a child was the ultimate sin, the only one that would put the Baron personally on your case. Best not to associate with those too much. Besides, there were still a handful of visits to make. Each grave was a story; each story was an old friend.

* * *

"_How's it hangin' Boys?"_

_Hector and James turned from their maps to see Facilier leaning on a crate of oranges._

"_This deck is off limits to civilians you know."_

"_Then what about loan sharks? Yall know I can have the Friends drop by any ole time."_

"_Aye and it'd be quite a loss for you if we didn't send the occasional sailor off in your direction." Hector stroked his long beard to cover his smile. "It would be quite a drop in the bucket for all of you were t'not for us."_

"_Speaking of which," James cut in. "Have you met the new sea witch?"_

"_I've heard a few things. Not yet seen her for myself of course."_

"_Heh heh. Vanessa's not too happy about her."_

"_Well she wouldn't be now would she, Old Man?"_

_James looked put out at the 'Old Man' comment, but brushed the matter aside. After all, it was fast becoming true. His jet black hair was streaked with grey and anything that sounded remotely like ticking set him ill at ease. But now Hector was talking._

"_. . . you can tell she's jealous. Been spreading the rumor that she's got crabs of something."_

"_Have you seen her shack Hector? It's covered in crabs! They look like little grey rocks until you get close."_

"_She lives on the beach?"_

"_No! That makes it even stranger. Tia Dalma lives off 42__nd__ Street. You should go see her."_

"_Maybe I will Old Man." Facilier looked thoughtful. "Maybe I will."_

* * *

_Hector and James were in the captain's dining room, long after Facilier had left. James reached for the wine._

"_I don't know about you Hector, but I'm really starting to worry about this town."_

"_Aye. Anymore witchdoctors in this bayou and we won't have a port for business. Or anyone on deck for that matter."_

"_Exactly. Not only that, but I saw a crocodile yesterday. It was __**watching **__me."_

"_James, there are no crocodiles in Louisiana. You're just getting senile. You never should have gotten your fortune told." Hector pulled off his hat and massaged his forehead. James was getting increasingly paranoid._

"_Can't be too careful Hector." James stared out the window overlooking the dark water. Slivers of moonlight beamed down, highlighting the grey in his hair and gleaming off the hook on his right hand. "Can't be too careful."_

"_No, I suppose you can't," somewhere below deck was a 'thump' – a sailor had fallen off his bunk. Hector took a sip of wine. It really was very good._

* * *

_Facilier meanwhile was fast approaching 42__nd__ Street. His cane clacked on the cobblestones in a quick rhythm and his shadow danced a little, scaring the occasional drunk into sobriety. He was close enough now to observe the rocks James had mentioned. Sure enough, as he closed in they began to move and he felt hundreds of eyes watching him. He stood on the other side of the gate and stared back, waiting._

* * *

She was already waiting for him as he stepped up.

"Do you hear them? They're singing."

Facilier listened closely, head cocked to one side and heard nothing but the wind whistling through the cemetery. Somewhere there at the end though, he did fancy he heard a snatch of a voice hanging on at the end of the breeze. It sounded like Vanessa, a hollow echo of beauty amidst death.

"They're calling for you."

"They can just keep calling then."

* * *

The Hall of Mirrors had a long history as the living quarters of many voodoo practitioners. The last inhabitant, Narissa Morgan, had been apprenticed to Millicent and Victoria, who were themselves students of an even greater power in their day. But where the original voodoo queen had been neutral in her dealings, over the years the shadows had slipped into the cracks and the hierarchy decayed. Millicent and Victoria, to the end of their lives, had each staked a claim to the title of voodoo queen and spent long years just waiting for the other to slip up. Inside the mirrors the shadows waited as well, flitting between sheets of glass, whispering to each other and placing bets on which one would inherit the title. In the end, the two had died within days of each other. Narissa never took up the title herself; Millicent and Victoria had been too busy with their rivalry to teach her much of anything properly. Narissa remained in the dipladated Hall, its interiors now reflecting its history of power fallen to ruin.

"_You could bring it back," he said. "Rebuild an empire. All in exchange for a few souls."_

_Narissa sank deeper into her seat. "No," her long fingers gripped the arms of the chair. "Not anymore," her voice sounded tired._

_Facilier waited for her to continue._

"_The old order is falling apart. The only thing holding it together now is itself. The title doesn't mean anything anymore."_

_There was a groaning sound from one of the mirrors; a shadow was trying to get out. Narissa didn't even turn._

"_There are still a few shade trapped inside the maze. They keep me company."_

_Facilier tapped his cane against his chin thoughtfully, but didn't say anything._

* * *

"The order is dying," Tia Dalma turned slowly to face Facilier. They were nearly eye to eye. "It is foolishness to try to repair what once was."

"I've got friends."

"You had friends. Now you have Friends," Tia Dalma swept an arm over the cemetery. "And one way or another, you will join them eventually. Don't make it any sooner than it has to be."

She left soon after that. Her respects had been paid to the dead and gone and there was no need to stay any longer.

He didn't like admitting it, but she was right; the two of them were the only practitioners left in the city. One by one the others had overstretched their limits, tallied up debts they couldn't pay on time. Facilier himself was in quite deep with the shadows already. Morally, he was quite bankrupt. Ensorcelled by the promise of a life of ease and luxury, he had grabbed the opportunity to take control of his life at whatever cost. It had never occurred to him that he might not be able to pay it all back.

The Friends always took more than they gave. He knew that now.

One last gamble – that was all he had left. One big plan to cover his debts and put him back in the Friend's good graces.

To do that though, he needed a little help. Under the weak moonlight of New Orleans he waited for an answer, and in the deeps of the night he got one.

Shadows rose from the grave markers he had visited, emerging and stretching slowly out of the ground and rushing to his side and he smiled; he still had friends on the other side.

* * *

_I've been working on this for MONTHS; got a serious case of writer's block while doing it, never mind the fact that I saw this movie ONCE, way back when it came out and haven't seen it since. So yeah._

_I crammed this full of Disney references and wanted to get a lot more in, but I think it's long enough as it is. I'm a total Disney nerd. 1000 points for catching all the references, and an extra 100 for spotting the Kingdom Hearts shout out :)_

_-SilverInkblot_


End file.
